Chapter twenty six

Elara POV

I woke up to the sound of breathing that wasn’t mine.

Deep. Controlled. Close.

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. The room felt soft, wrapped in warmth and quiet. Then I shifted slightly, and pain rippled through my body like a warning bell. My throat burned. My head throbbed. My stomach rolled.

I opened my eyes.

Dante was sitting beside the bed.

Not standing guard. Not looming. Sitting.

His jacket was gone. His sleeves were rolled up. One hand rested on the edge of the mattress, close enough that if I moved my fingers just a little, I would touch him.

I froze.

He noticed instantly.

“You’re awake,” he said.

His voice was low. Careful. Like he didn’t want to scare me back into unconsciousness.

I swallowed. “How long…?”

“Long enough,” he replied. “Don’t talk too much.”

I nodded faintly. My mouth felt dry.

He reached for the glass of water on the table, held it to my lips. I hesitated, then drank. My hands shook, so he steadied the glass without comment.

The silence between us wasn’t empty. It was heavy. Charged. Like something was waiting to be said and neither of us trusted ourselves to say it first.

“You scared everyone,” he said finally.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

His jaw tightened. “Don’t apologize for being sick.”

I looked at him then. Really looked.

He looked tired. Not just the usual controlled exhaustion he wore like armor. This was different. Raw. The kind that came from staying awake too long, worrying about things you couldn’t control.

“You stayed?” I asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

He didn’t answer.

That was enough to answer.

The next two days blurred together in fragments.

Sleep. Waking. Voices. Warm hands. Cool clothes. Dante was always there.

Sometimes sitting. Sometimes standing near the window. Sometimes reading something he wasn’t actually reading. But every time I opened my eyes, he was there.

Always watching.

Always aware.

Alicia came too. Less often. Always composed. Always at a distance. She never touched me. Never spoke directly to me longer than necessary.

But I felt her eyes.

Watching.

Measuring.

Judging.

On the second day, my strength began to return. Slowly. Like my body was relearning how to belong to me again.

I sat up with Dante’s help, pillows stacked behind my back.

“You’re stubborn,” he said as I insisted on sitting upright.

“I don’t like feeling useless.”

His mouth twitched slightly. “You’re not.”

The words settled into me, warm and dangerous.

He handed me soup. I ate slowly, aware of how close he was, how his knee brushed the bed, how his presence filled the room.

“You should be resting,” I said softly.

“So should you.”

“You’ve barely left.”

“I’m fine.”

I almost laughed. Almost.

“You’re not,” I said before I could stop myself.

His gaze snapped to mine. Sharp. Searching.

I held it.

For a second, the world narrowed to just us. No guards. No mansion. No obligations. Just the truth hovering between our breaths.

Then Alicia’s voice cut through the moment.

“Dante.”

She stood in the doorway, perfectly dressed, eyes flicking briefly to me before settling on him.

“You need to take your medication.”

He looked away from me. “In a minute.”

“It’s been an hour,” she said calmly.

I shifted, suddenly too aware of myself. “I’ll rest,” I said quickly. “You should go.”

Dante hesitated.

Alicia waited.

Finally, he nodded. “I’ll be back.”

The door closed behind them.

The room felt colder instantly.

That night, fever dreams crept in. Half-sleep. Half-memory.

I dreamed of hands. Of voices calling my name. Of falling and being caught before I hit the ground.

When I woke, Dante was holding my hand.

I hadn’t imagined that.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

“I had a bad dream.”

“What about?”

I hesitated. Then told the truth. “Losing everything.”

His thumb brushed over my knuckles. Slow. Unthinking.

“You won’t,” he said.

I looked at our hands. Intertwined.

“Dante,” I whispered.

He stiffened slightly. “Yes.”

“You shouldn’t stay,” I said. “Alicia”

“I know where I’m supposed to be,” he said.

That stopped me.

The second day, I walked for the first time.

Just a few steps. Dante stayed close, one hand hovering near my back, ready to catch me if I fell.

I didn’t.

But I liked knowing he would.

“You’re improving,” he said.

“Because you won’t let me disappear.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

His expression changed. Not anger. Not softness.

Something deeper.

Before he could reply, Alicia appeared again, watching from the hallway.

She didn’t interrupt this time.

She just observed.

And I understood then she saw it too.

The way his attention gravitated toward me. The way the air shifted when we were close. The way something unnamed was growing quietly between us, whether we wanted it to or not.

That night, Dante didn’t sit.

He lay on the couch across the room, boots still on, arms folded over his chest.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“I’m not comfortable sleeping elsewhere.”

I smiled faintly. “You don’t look comfortable there either.”

He exhaled through his nose. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

Silence stretched again.

“Why do you care?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Because it’s my responsibility,” he said finally.

I nodded. But my chest hurts.

Responsibility wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

On the morning of the third day, I woke up alone.

The chair beside my bed was empty.

Panic flared before I could stop it.

Then I heard voices outside.

Low. Tense.

Alicia’s voice. Dante’s quieter. Controlled.

“I’m saying this is dangerous,” Alicia said. “You’re getting attached.”

“I’m being careful,” Dante replied.

“You’re spending all your time in her room.”

“She was sick.”

“She’s better now,” Alicia snapped. “And she’s not your fiancée.”

Silence.

Then Dante spoke.

“Enough.”

The word cracked like a whip.

“I won’t be told how to handle my house,” he continued. “Or my responsibilities.”

My heart pounded.

Alicia laughed softly. “Is that what this is to you now?”

Footsteps moved away.

The door opened.

Dante walked in.

He stopped when he saw me awake.

“How long?” he asked.

“Long enough.”

He sighed. “I didn’t want you to hear that.”

“I hear more than you think,” I said.

He stepped closer. “Does it upset you?”

I hesitated.

“Yes.

No.

Everything inside me was a mess.

“I don’t want to cause problems,” I said instead.

“You’re not.”

“I don’t want to stand between you and her.”

His gaze hardened. “You’re not standing anywhere you shouldn’t.”

I searched his face. “Then where do I stand?”

He didn’t answer.

Not with words.

Instead, he reached out and adjusted the blanket around my shoulders. Careful. Intimate.

Too intimate.

My breath caught.

Outside the room, I felt Alicia’s presence even when she wasn’t there. Like a storm building just beyond the horizon.

And deep in my chest, beneath the fear and confusion, something else stirred.

Hope.

Which scared me more than anything.

Because I knew whatever was growing between Dante and me, Alicia could see it too.

And she wouldn’t watch quietly forever.